


The Third Wish

by Here_Be_Nerds



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Here_Be_Nerds/pseuds/Here_Be_Nerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the story The Third wish by Joan Aiken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Wish

Once there was a man who was driving in his car at dusk on a spring evening through part of the forest of Savernake.

His name was Mr. Stark, but he went by Anthony. The primroses were just beginning but the trees were still bare, and it was cold: the birds had stopped singing an hour ago.

As Anthony enters a straight, empty stretch of road he seemed to hear a faint crying, and a struggling and thrashing, as if somebody was in trouble far away in the trees. He left his car and climbed the mossy bank beside the road. Beyond the bank was an open slope of beech trees leading down to thorn bushes through which he saw the gleam of water.

He stood a moment waiting to try and discover where the noise was coming from, and presently heard a rustling and some strange cries in a voice which was almost human-and yet there was something too hoarse about it at one time and too clear and sweet at another. Anthony ran down the hill and as he neared the bushes he saw something white among them which was trying to extract itself: coming closer he found that it was a swan that had become entangled in the thorns growing on the bank of the canal.

The bird struggled all the more frantically as he approached, looking at him with hate in his green eyes, and when he took hold of it to free it, it hissed at him, pecked him, and thrashed dangerously with its wings which were powerful enough to break his arm. Nevertheless he managed to release it from the thorns, and carrying it tightly with one arm, holding the snaky head well away from the other hand (for he did not wish for his eyes to be pecked out), he took it to the verge of the canal and dropped it in.

The swan instantly assumed great dignity and sailed out to the middle of the water, where it put itself to rights with much dabbling and preening, smoothing its feathers with little showers of drops. Anthony waited, to make sure that it was all right and had suffered no damage in its struggles.

Presently the swan, when it was satisfied with its appearance, floated in to the bank once more, and in a moment, instead of the great black bird, there was a man ,all in green, black and gold with a golden scepter, standing by the water. He had fierce glittering eyes and looked by no means friendly.

“Well, sir,” he said threateningly, “I see you are presump- tuous enough to know some of the laws of magic. You think because you have rescued – by pure good fortune – the Sorcerer of the Forest from a difficulty, you should have some fabulous reward.”

“I expect three wishes, no more and no less,” answered Anthony, looking at him steadily and with composure.

“Three wishes, he wants, the clever man! Well, I have yet to hear of a human who made good use of his three wishes – they mostly end up worse off then they started. Take your three wishes then “- he flung three dead leaves in the air- “don’t blame me if you spend the last wish in undoing the work of the other two.”

Anthony caught the leaves and put two of them carefully in his brief case. When he looked up, the swan was sailing about in the water again, flicking the drops angrily down its long neck.

Anthony stood for some minutes reflecting on how he should his reward. He knew very well that the gift often brought trouble more often than not, and he had no intention of being like the forester who first wished by mistake for a sausage, and then in a rage wished it on the end of his wife’s nose, and then had to use his last wish in getting it off again.

Anthony had most of the things in which he wanted and was very content with his life. The only thing that troubled him was that he was a little lonely, and had no companion for his old age. He decided to use his first wish and to keep the other two in case of an emergency. Taking a thorn he pricked his tongue with it, to remind himself not to utter rash wishes aloud. Then holding the third leaf and gazing round him at the dusky blue-green water of the canal, he said:

“I wish I had a Husband as beautiful as the forest.”

A tremendous quacking and splashing broke out on the surface of the water. He thought that it was the swan laughing at him. Taking no notice he made his way through the darkening woods to his car, wrapped him self up in the rug and went to sleep.

When he awoke it was morning and the birds were beginning to call. Coming along the track towards him was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, with eyes as blue as the sky, hair as golden as the morning sun, and skin as white as the feathers of swans.

“Are you the husband that I wished for?” asked Anthony.

“Yes, I am.” He replied. “My name is Stefan.”

He stepped into the car beside him and they drove off to the church on the outskirts of the forest, where they were married. Then he took him to his treasures- the large estate, the lab where he often works, the machines he has built (Dummy, You, Butterfingers), the hyacinths, the silver candlesticks, the blue cups and the luster bowl for putting primroses in. He admired everything, but what pleased him most was the river which ran by the foot of his garden.

“Do swans come up there?” he asked.

“Yes, I have often seen swans there on the river,” he told him, and he smiled.

Stefan made him a good husband. But as time went by Anthony began to feel that he was not happy. He seemed restless, wandered much in the garden, and sometimes when he came back from the fields he would find the house empty and Stefan would only return after half an hour or so with no explanation of where he’d been. On these occasions he was always especially tender and would put out his slipper to warm and cook his favorite dish – Welsh rarebit and wild strawberries- for supper.

One evening he was returning home along the river path when he saw Stefan in front of him, down by the river. A swan had sailed up to the verge and he had his arms around its neck and the swan’s head rested against his cheek. He was weeping, and as he came nearer he saw that tears were rolling, too, from the swan’s eyes.

“Stefan, what is it?” he asked, very troubled.

“This is my brother,” he answered. “I can’t bear being separated from him.”

Now he understood that Stefan was really a swan from the forest, and this made him very sad because when a human marries a bird it always leads to sorrow.

“I could use my second wish to give your brother human shape, so that he could be a companion to you,” he suggested.

“No, no,” he cried, “I couldn’t ask that of him.”

“Is it so very hard to be a human?” asked Anthony sadly.

“Very, very hard,” he answered.

“Don’t you love me at all, Stefan?”

“Yes, I do, I do love you,” he said, and there were tears in his eyes again. “But I missed the old life in the forest, the cool grass and the mist rising off the river at sunrise and the feel of the water sliding over my feathers as my brother and I drifted along the stream.”

“Then shall I use my second wish to turn you back into a swan again?” he asked’ and his tongue pricked to remind him of the old King’s words, and his heart swelled with grief inside him.

“Who will take care of you?”

“I’d do it myself as I did before I married you.” He said trying to sound cheerful.

He shook his head. “No, I could not be as unkind to you as that. I am partly swan, but I also am partly a human now. I will stay with you.”

Poor Anthony was very distressed on his husband's account and did his best to make his life happier, taking him for drives in the car, finding beautiful music for him to listen to on the radio, buying clothes for him and even suggesting a trip around the world. But he said no to that; he would prefer to stay in their own house near the river.

He noticed that he spent more and more time baking wonderful cakes –jam puffs, petits fours, eclairs and meringues. One day he saw him take a basketful down by the river and he guessed he was giving them to his brother.

He built a seat for him by the river, and the two brothers spent hours together there, communicating in some wordless manner. For a time he thought that all would be well, but then he saw how thin and pale he was growing.

One night when he and been late doing the account he came up to bed and found him weeping in her sleep and calling:  
“James! James! I can’t understand what you say! Oh, wait for me, take me with you!”

Then he knew that it was hopeless and he would never be happy as a human. He stooped down and kissed him goodbye, then he took another leaf from his notecase, blew it out of the window, and used up his second wish.

Next moment instead of Stefan there was a sleeping swan lying across the bed with its head under its wing. He carried it out of the house and down to the brink of the river, and then he said, “Stefan! Stefan!” to waken him, and gently put him into the water. He gazed around her in astonishment for a moment, and then came up to him rested his head lightly against his hand: the next instant he was flying away over the trees towards the heart of the forest.

He heard a harsh laugh behind him, and turning around saw the old King looking at him with a malicious expression.

“Well, my friend! You don’t seem to have managed so wonderfully with your first two wishes, do you? What will you do with the last? Turn yourself into a swan? Or turn Stefan back into a man?”

“I shall do neither,” said Anthony calmly. “Humans and swans are better in their own shapes.”

But for all that he looked sadly over towards the forest where Stefan had flown, and walked slowly back to his house.

Next day he saw two swans swimming at the bottom of the garden, and one of them wore a gold chain he had given Stefan after their marriage; he came up and rubbed his head against his hand.

Anthony and his two swans came to be well known in that part of the country; people used to say he talked to swans and they understood him as well as his neighbors.

Many people were a little frightened of him. There was a story that once when thieves tried to break into his house they were set upon by two huge white birds which carried them off bodily and dropped them in the river.

As Anthony grew old everyone wondered at his contentment. Even when he was bent with rheumatism he would not think of moving to a drier spot, but went slowly about his work, with the two swans always somewhere close at hand.

Sometimes people who knew his story would say to him:

“Mr. Peters, why don’t you wish for another husband?”

“Not likely,” he would answer serenely. “Two wishes were enough for me, I reckon. I’ve learned that even if your wishes are granted they don’t always better you. I’ll stay faithful to Stefan.”

One autumn night, passers-by along the road heard the mournful sound of two swans singing. All night the song went on, sweet and harsh, sharp and clear. In the morning Anthony was found peacefully dead in his bed with a smile of great happiness on his face. In his hands, which lay clasped on his chest, were a withered leaf and a white feather. 

 

I found this story and i was bored so i made this...enjoy!


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